


Deus Vult

by Danae14



Series: Any Fool Can Be Happy [1]
Category: The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Death, Crisis of Faith, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Self-Discovery, Self-Hatred, Slow Burn, redemption arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:08:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26575000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danae14/pseuds/Danae14
Summary: "Pain is an exquisite thing. It can be debilitating, motivating, completely overwhelming or a constant background. It can make you wish you were dead or remind you that you are still alive. In his long life, Nicolo has known many different kinds of pain."Slow burn story of Nicolo deconstructing his faith and allowing himself to fall in love.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: Any Fool Can Be Happy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950838
Comments: 32
Kudos: 110





	1. Pain

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for this story. I am not very nice to Nicolo in the beginning of this fic. Nicolo has some very prejudiced and closed minded opinions about the religions and cultures he comes across in the beginning. This is meant to be a journey and his opinions will change. As a gay person of faith myself this is a guess at what kind of deconstruction a person like Nicolo would have to go through during that time period. Also warnings about violence against muslim and jewish people, offscreen allusions to rape, referenced child abuse, and onscreen child death. Sorry it’s a bit of an angsty one but with a hopeful ending. Also sorry for any and all errors in the history, I tried my best. (please let me know if you catch something that needs correcting in the tags, the history, the religions, etc.)

Deus Vult! God Will's It!

Chapter One  
Pain is an exquisite thing. It can be debilitating, motivating, completely overwhelming or a constant background. It can make you wish you were dead or remind you that you are still alive. In his long life, Nicolo has known many different kinds of pain.There were the before immortality pains such as his first introduction to death in losing his infant brother to a fever. Or the physical pain of breaking his arm when he fell from the tree in his uncle's orchard. Or the pain of existential dread and all consuming shame when his father found him in bed with another man. The pain of rejection and loss when he was shipped off to join the church to purge his sin.  
When he joined the crusade it was with holy purpose and the hope of redemption. The certainty of doing good in a world of injustice. The conviction that though he was made wrong and full of sin, that he could still possibly please his Holy Father with his obedience. He might not be able to purge himself of his secret desires but he could help purge this world of the scourge in the east. It was the kindness of the Lord that would lead to the redemption of Jerusalem. Even in the final moments of his mortal life, the pain of fatal wounds overshadowed by the overwhelming peace that he would be welcomed into paradise. The blood of his enemy on his sword a key to the pearly gates themselves. The words of his eminence the Pope ringing in his ears as he breathed his last and died. “Deus vult!”

Pain did not change in the awakening of Nicolo’s immortal life. The pain of loss in the many bodies of his companions around him. The physical pain of his skin blistered by the scorching desert sun, his wounds closing slowly. His body fighting through mortal injury to repair itself and function. Nicolo can still remember the overwhelming need to breathe, his lungs seizing in his chest as they healed. Despair was not an immediate reaction to seeing that not only he but also the foul saracen had escaped the clutches of death, not until the third and then the fifth and the tenth time he and his enemy continued their macabre dance was he nearly overwhelmed by the emotion. At that point his lungs seized not with injury but with crushing doubt. He had been assured salvation, his actions had been justified because of this assurance. Yet time and again upon the blood soaked sand of this God forsaken desert, opposite the burning eyes of his murderer did Nicolo remain, not in his promised and deserved destination. Remaining in his sin stained mortal coil. He didn’t know if it was exhaustion, acceptance, or pity in the face of his utter despair that stayed his adversaries hand in the end. The curve of his mouth softened, though still hesitant, and instead of cold blade it was a warm hand that was offered and a name gifted, “Yusuf.”

Those first few days Nicolo knew a different kind of pain in numbness. An inability to rationalize his current state and company. He functioned on the basis of survival and not much beyond that. It was in the face of his fellow’s piety that Nicolo once again found the strength to attend to his religion practice. He could not allow himself, soldier of Christ, to be outdone by this pagan. He could hear the shaming voice of his father demanding he present himself as a proper Christian. Each time his companion laid out his prayer rug, Nicolo would kneel in the dirt. He prayed with fervour and subservience, always making sure to outlast the muslim. He fasted on all meals but the barest meals of bread and water.  
Trust, as tentative as it was between the two men was slow in coming. When they approached the local villages to gather supplies Yusuf would not allow the Christian to accompany him unless the men of the village were present and numerous. He spoke a bare amount of Nicolo’s language from his time as a merchant sailor and rapidly gained vocabulary as Nicolo stubbornly refused to learn his tongue. Many a dinner was spoiled by argument as Nicolo defended and evangelized his Crusade. Yusuf seemed to him, not as terrible as most other Saracens that Nicolo had heard of. He was kind to those they passed on the long roads, honourable to the women they came across and delighting and playing with the children they saw in the villages. He was brave and talented as a swordsman. He fought side by side with Nicolo, protecting a group of merchants they had camped with for the night as they were set upon by bandits. He even seemed to be passably intelligent. He was a quick study for language and had a hunger for books that soon became a great inconvenience to their small travel bags.  
Eventually numbness fell away to the conclusion that if he was to be stuck on this earth with Yusuf then it must be to convert the man. He started to sit closer to him and to speak louder during prayer. He kept his temper during their discussions of theology, learning to be patient as a parent explaining the way of the world to the ignorant. All the while Yusuf dealt with Nicolo’s pestering with a mix of endurance, tolerance, or much to Nicolo’s indignation, raucous laughter.  
When news of the fall of Jerusalem met them some many months later, it was bitter ash and copper that Nicolo tasted in his mouth and not the expected milk and honey. Yusuf was overcome with grief and refused to speak latin or genoese for weeks. Their usual banter was swallowed by the palpable heartache and rage that Yusuf barely kept from directing towards the Christian sharing his journey. Nicolo prayed silently during that time, only because the first morning he was set up for prayer near Yusuf, he had received such a glare as to strip the flesh from his bones. He slept fitfully, with the reports of the sack of Jerusalem echoing in his head. He found his sleep by repeating the words “Deus vult!” 

It was during this time that Nicolo finally started to learn Arabic. Yusuf didn’t speak to him often anymore and if at all it was in his own language. Too stubborn at first to say things out loud, Nicolo practiced the words and phrases he knew in his head as they traveled. When Yusuf was outside of earshot Nicolo would ask other travellers to teach him and help him practice. It wasn’t until he could speak full sentences that Nicolo said his first words to Yusuf.  
Gingerly the peace they had held for months of travel was reestablished. This time though Yusuf had very little patience for Nicolo’s defence of the crusaders. He would eagerly talk philosophy or the nature and character of God but would halt conversation when it veered in that direction. Nicolo was greatly unsatisfied with the progress of Yusuf’s conversion. When the creeping sense of doubt niggled away at him he would viciously tamp it down and double down on his new mission. The two of them had both agreed not to return to their respective homes. They both had been seen to have fallen in the battle and neither wanted to tempt an accusation of witchcraft returning from the dead. They had taken up work guarding caravans. Nicolo became more and more familiar with the region and the cultures therein. In the beginning he hated all of it. He missed the superiority of his city state but comforted himself with the determination to teach all those he came across the right way to live. He had been a priest before, so he was well versed in the lessons, having experienced many of them himself in his youth. Yusuf mostly ignored Nicolo’s preaching, until a day where Nicolo tried to take a switch to a young boy who had stolen from their bags. It was the first time either of them had turned violence towards the others in a good long time and Nicolo truly did not understand. Yusuf had full tackled him and after a brief tussle, thoroughly pinned Nicolo beneath him, hand at the back of his neck pressing him down.  
“What are you doing? You crazy christian, how dare you go after a child in this way?” Yusuf angrily demanded, squeezing the grip at the back of Nicolo’s neck.  
“What do you think I was doing? It was for his own good Yusuf," Nicolo expand, speaking slow and with conviction. "How else is he to know right from wrong? This is the way of things,” he explained though Yusuf still seemed unconvinced to him. So he gently dislodged Yusuf’s hands and pulled down the back of his shirt, showing the thin silvery scars on his own back. Though all new wounds faded away into unblemished skin both men still had the scars from their first lives. Nicolo had not expected Yusuf to go so entirely still above him, nor the quiet gasp of shock. Nicolo flinched slightly before stilling as he felt tentative fingers gently tracing the patterned scars on his back.  
“Who did this to you?” Yusuf asked so quietly Nicolo strained to hear him.  
“My father or my teacher, sometimes the priest. Whoever needed to teach the lesson. This is the way children learn Yusuf. It isn’t to hurt them, it’s because we love them. We do not want them to go astray,” Nicolo tried to soothe.  
“That is not love Nicolo,” Yusuf said with surety and then pushed himself up and off of him.  
What confused Nicolo more than all else was the pain and pity in Yusuf’s eyes when he pushed himself up from the ground and faced him and how quickly his eyes shuttered cold when Nicolo muttered, “Deus vult.” 

It was the following day that Nicolo discovered pain he had not thought to exist. It was in traveling too close to the crusader occupied area that their little band was halted. Nicolo and Yusuf mostly stuck to the rear of the caravan to protect it and that was where they were when shouting started from the front. Nicolo quickly rode to the front to help the communication between the head of the caravan and the impassioned priest who led the guards. The troupe in front of them were 5 men and all were agitated. Their horses snorted and pawed at the earth as the shouting escalated. From what Nicolo could understand the priest was accusing the caravan of smuggling weapons and hiding enemy combatants that had assaulted a garrison not far from here. Nicolo rode up beside Isaac, the owner of the caravan and assured the priest in latin that this was only a family business, jews not saracens, merely transporting silks and other trade worthy goods.  
That’s when the screams from the back of the caravan started up. Nicolo turned to see men garbed in blood red crosses bearing down on the rear of the train. He turned quickly to speak to the men in front of him only to be greeted with a sword through the belly. The priest in front of him pushed Nicolo off his sword and from his horse. The pain of his wound and the hot blood streaming between his fingers were nothing compared to pain of what he witnessed next. He watched through blurry eyes as the glittering cross topped spears skewered Deborah the elderly wife of Isaac. She had only this morning teased Yusuf and him, trying to convince them to marry her youngest daughters as she served them breakfast. The heavy body of Isaac fell headless beside him. He screamed and tried to rise to his feet as Jesse, Daniel, and Hannah, the children of Aaron and Chava all under the age of 8, had their throats slit and their bodies trampled beneath the horses. Their parent’s cut down wailing for their young children, even as they clutched baby Noah between them. He cried out, too late, as he watched Yusuf viciously cut to pieces as he tried to defend the children. Nicolo was speared from the back as he tried to reach him and remained stuck in the dirt as the caravan was wiped out and their goods carried away, along with Leah and Sarah, the two teenage daughters of Deborah and Isaac. He finally died as the shout echoed from the fleeing party of marauders, “Deus vult!”


	2. Cut Off

Chapter Two  
He awoke to absolute silence. Nothing around him moved.   
“Yusuf!’ His heart stopped in his chest as he called out and received no answer. He had to get to the other man. He realized he could not pull himself off the spear with it stuck firmly in the ground under him. He found his sword still in it’s sheath at his side and pulled it free. He braced himself clenching his jaw and with a shout of anguish he pulled himself up to his knees, sliding his way up the shaft of wood in his chest, before slicing the haft of the spear in front of him. Having lost the support of the spear beneath him he collapsed painfully to the ground. He thinks he died again because he wakes up on his side the haft of spear still resolutely stuck inside him. He pulled himself up to his knees once again and took a shuddering breath, his lungs already filling with blood once again. With a slurping sucking noise and a scream he pulled the final three feet of spear out of his body before collapsing and healing enough to move. Finally having freed himself he stumbled to Yusuf, avoiding the corpses of the children nearby. Heart in his throat Nicolo took in the mutilated form of his travel companion, dropping to his knees beside him. He clung desperately to his tunic. Nicolo lost all sense of sound and surroundings as he waited for life to return to Yusuf but he remained still and cold. Soon Nicolo gave way to panic. He would be alone on this earth, his mission failed and his only companion dead. Dismay gripped Nicolo and he shook the body once hard.   
“Wake up you damnable heathen. Get up!``Yet Yusuf remained dead as before. Nicolo shook him again, “You cannot leave me Yusuf. You cannot. You and I are bound, to this earth and to each other. You hear me! We are in this together,”  
Futile tears trailing down his cheeks, Nicolo shook the body once more, desperation in his voice, “Deus vult, Yusuf. You and I are not to die without the other, God wills it. You cannot die on me. Deus vult!”   
In what could have been seconds, minutes or hours, breath finally came shuddering back into Yusuf’s body and his eyes flew open.  
“Where are they?” Yusuf tried to sit up but Nicolo held him down. Nicolo buried his face in his shaking hands still clutching Yusuf’s chest.  
“They’re all gone, Yusuf. I failed them. They’re all gone.” Yusuf remained silent beneath him as Nicolo shook and sobbed but thread his fingers in Nicolo's hair in comfort. Before long it was the crying of Noah that finally shook the two of them to action. Still cradled in his dead mother’s arms the infant was gravely injured but still alive. Nicolo held him as Yusuf checked the rest of their group. All 15 of the party save for them, the infant and the two kidnapped girls were dead. They set up camp that night and neither of them slept, keeping watch over tiny Noah as he struggled for each breath. They had bound his wounds as best they could but there was little they could do. Nicolo steadfastly refused to lay the infant down, even when his arms ached and shook with exhaustion. Yusuf sang lullabies till his voice went hoarse, then continued till his throat healed itself. It was early the next morning, just as the sun had turned the sky rosy pink, that Noah’s heart finally gave out. Yusuf had to take the small form from Nicolo’s grasp, as his arms had cramped from being in the same position for so long. They spent the entirety of that day laying the family to rest. They both prayed, though neither of them knew the Jewish rites. Nicolo buried his long carried wooden cross that he had kept around his neck at the foot of Noah’s grave and when they left, he didn’t look back.  
Nicolo had known anger, he’d even known rage, but in all of his years he had never experienced blood lust. The curdling fury, the all consuming need for revenge. They tracked the murderers for three days before they finally happened upon their camp. They fell upon the camp in the dead of night, setting tents on fire and cutting down the escaping men. They were mostly unarmed, unclothed, and woken from the dead of sleep so the fight was not long. Fifteen christian knights, and one priest sitting on the spoils of many murdered caravans. Nicolo had been the one to barge into the priests tent. Tied to the center tent post was Leah and Sarah, clothing torn apart and bruises littering their sweet faces. He found the priest as he cowered in his bed, pleading for mercy. Nicolo had none for him. After he had dealt with the priest he and Yusuf cared for two girls. They had to quickly leave the region for fear of reprisal, not for themselves but for their two charges. They decided to take them to Alexandria where the girls still had distant family. Through the long weeks of travel Nicolo spoke little and ate less. Yusuf tried to keep upbeat for the girls but often his efforts were strained with his own grief. 

Nicolo had stopped praying. Yusuf had tried to encourage him to join him the first few days but soon stopped. Nicolo had gotten rid of his red cross tunic two days into the journey when the girls had spotted it. They hadn’t said a word but the looks in their eyes had Nicolo methodically and callously tearing it apart before he tossed the pieces into their camp fire. All the while Nicolo was haunted in the dead of night, gasping awake and swallowing down bile, a ghost still cradled in his arms. His ears ringing with “Deus vult!” 

After dropping the girls off in Alexandria Nicolo didn’t know or care what to do next. He felt as if with the completion of bringing the girls to safety his strings had been cut. He lacked motivation, drive, or even desire. He recognized now the absurdity of his ‘mission’. He’d known since he’d heard of the sack of Jerusalem and had been living in delusion ever since. How could a God of love demand such carnage from his children? How could a God of justice and righteousness abide the murder, rape, and greed? Nicolo had always feared God, as one fears their father, but he had always loved him as well. God had been a constant companion and friend for a lonely child and a desperate young man. Nicolo had only even wanted to be worthy of his love. When his family had cast him aside, it was the embrace of faith that had helped rebuild him. His order had become his family, they loved him, even if they would never fully know or embrace him. He’d known then not to recommit his sin for fear of the repercussions. His faith had given him purpose, a reason to live. To save the world for Christ, to rid Jerusalem of the savage caliphates, to purify his soul and all those under his sword. Now he understood that that fantasy was nothing but an erroneous waste of time. A dangerous fallacy that had heaped the world in blood and suffering. Nicolo knew pain, but the pain of losing his faith was a pain that was deeper and lonelier than any he had ever experienced. Losing his trust in a good God was like losing the ground beneath his feet. Losing his hope in salvation was like losing the sun in the sky. He felt as a lost child, an anchorless and sinking ship.   
Perhaps Yusuf sensed during this time the despair Nicolo felt for he didn’t push for them to go out again. They found lodging in the Jewish quarter and stayed in Alexandria for a time. Yusuf gained employment for himself in the Muslim side of the city in the bazaar and for Nicolo with Leah and Sarah’s distant cousin Mordecai’s bakery.  
The work was hard and the hours long and Nicolo was thankful for the distraction. Mordecai was a few years older than himself, with large hands and curly red hair. He was a straightforward and quiet man. The two men spent hours in companionable silence in the heat of the bakery each day. Modecai’s pregnant wife Michal would often visit the bakery, as their home was directly behind. She was a tiny woman with bronze skin and dark tresses of hair. From the first day and every day since Michal addressed him as Jeremiah and her husband had followed her example. Nicolo assumed it was because he would need a jewish name to hide his Christian one. Alexandria was a tolerant city but tensions were high with the taking of the holy land. She would complain loudly about how skinny Nicolo was, poking him in his narrow belly. She would send him home with dried fruits, olives, and whatever wasn’t sold from the day, demanding he eat more and to make sure Yusuf was eating as well. She would invite both Yusuf and him to have a meal with them once a week on Shabbat. Nicolo had politely declined but Yusuf had gone a few times.  
Usually in the evenings Nicolo would be home first and would cook for when Yusuf returned. Yusuf would try to draw Nicolo into conversation but Nicolo was generally withdrawn, picking at his food and staring away and the conversation would die quickly. At night he and Yusuf would lay out their pallets. Often Yusuf would read before bed. Nicolo continued to have disturbed sleep and numerous night terrors. He would go to work with dark circles beneath his eyes and Michal would tut at him reproachfully.   
It was a few months of this before Nicolo caught a fever, mostly due to lack of nutrition and terrible sleep. In the morning before he left Yusuf had argued to stay to take care of him but Nicolo had refused to let him. He assured him it would be alright, it was only a fever after all. As the day progressed the fever took hold of him and left him shaking in bed, completely devoid of strength. Worse still it led to nightmares. First he dreamed of painful memories; his father, barging into his room where he found him and his lover, Constantino. His father had gone ballistic, screaming and grabbing Constantino by the throat and throwing him into the street. Nicolo had never seen Constantino again. His father had then beaten him till his mother and brothers had forced him to stop, nearly killing him. Next the memories twisted into terrible nightmares where reality and fiction bent around one another. He was in Jerusalem, among his old company slaughtering the Muslim hostages from the Al-Aqsa Mosque. He was lighting the fire that burned the Jewish Synagogue to the ground, the faces of Isaac, Deborrah, and the children screaming within. Next he was back on that fateful day in the desert only this time it was his sword cutting Aaron, Chava and little Noah down in the desert, a red cross turned redder with blood. His sword cutting Yusuf to so many pieces, it had taken ages for him to heal together again, except this time, the pieces remained where they fell and Yusuf’s chest never drew breath again. He screamed as he did before, demanding Yusuf return to him. He tried to put the pieces back together but nothing worked, and Yusuf remained slain on the ground till Nicolo’s vision flashed with brilliant light before it faded into utter blackness. When he awoke it was to Yusuf at his back, arms tucked in around him. Nicolo’s breaths shuttered out of him in hiccups and gasps. His limbs shaking as if with an eternal earthquake. The arms around him tightened as if he could hold Nicolo from shaking apart. Nicolo could feel Yusuf shushing gently at the back of his neck. Yusuf moved one of his hands to gently pull the sweat plastered hair from Nicolo’s face and smooth it back. Slowly Nicolo calmed, his body returning to calm, all the while Yusuf held and stroked him, cooing gently. It was odd being so close to Yusuf, though not terribly unpleasant. Yusuf smelled of the marketplace, of exotic spices and perfumes but also of musk and leather. He was warm at his back and Nicolo soon felt himself lulled back to sleep by the slow exhalations on the back of his neck.


	3. Absolution

Chapter Three  
“If you wanted to die, there are easier ways to do so. Though none I know that would stick for us,” Yusuf said sitting at the side of the pallet the next day when Nicolo awoke. Nicolo processed quietly for a minute before responding disbelievingly, “I died? From the fever?”  
Yusuf snorted bitterly at him, “You gave up. Your body stopped living because it had no strength from which to fight the fever. This needs to stop Nicolo. You need to eat. You need to sleep. You need to try. We are in this together remember. You and I. You don’t get to quit on me.”  
Yusuf stared long and hard at him before getting up and making his way out of the room before pausing in the doorway and saying, “Deus vult.” Nicolo flinched hard though Yusuf hadn’t spoken loud or even angrily. To have Yusuf using that phrase felt wrong. Nicolo knew what those words meant to him. They were the dehumanization of Muslims. The call for the destruction of his people. Nicolo hadn’t realized that day in the desert that Yusuf had heard him. For him to use them now in this way, Nicolo didn’t even know what he felt about it.  
Nicolo wasn’t an idiot, as much as he was self deceptive. He knew objectively that Yusuf was an attractive man. When he had first seen Yusuf he had been blinded by the heat of battle and the adrenaline of death to really take in what he was seeing but he remembered with such clarity now. The strength and determination in Yusuf’s blazing brown eyes. The intelligent curve of his eyebrows. The slight grin of satisfaction when he had dealt the killing blow, avenging himself even as he died. Nicolo had seen and not appreciated all of this in the moment. Yusuf had been barely human to him at that moment. All Nicolo had seen was the enemy. Genova had been at war with some Muslim faction or another for years now. Even the sin of lying with another man paled in comparison to associating with a Saracen. His father would probably kill him if he knew how his son had traveled, broken bread, and lived with a hated enemy. Now though, as Nicolo sat and finally accepted what his brain had tried to protect him from he couldn't help but remember more moments of Yusuf’s beauty. His strong hand which had offered kindness and friendship even as Nicolo had offended and wounded him with his stubbornness and fear. Those hands as they prepared meals for them on the road. As they had played with the children from the caravan. As they held him together as Nicolo nearly shook apart the night before. He wanted to be better for him but how could he ever deserve forgiveness. He who had blindly followed where his soul had warned him to flee. He knew it was wrong but had chosen to believe those who used him for their own political purposes.  
Nicolo stayed in bed thinking till his brain hurt, falling back to sleep at some point. At about midday he was awoken by Michal coming to bring him some food.  
“Oh my Jeremiah, you look terrible. You haven’t been eating have you?” she tutted fretfully at him and he smiled good naturally, if not weakly.  
“It was only a fever and I’ve slept it off for now. There’s no need for you to worry” he soothed her with a forced smile, absentmindedly straightening his hair and pulling his blanket tighter around him. Michal sat in silent judgement of him, crinkling her brow, before handing over the food she had brought. It smelled good, hearty, full of vegetables and red meat. Nicolo knew that it had been a sacrifice for the family to give him a portion of their meat. The pressure of that thought was quickly ruining his appetite. He didn’t know how to accept the care that had been heaped upon him when he felt so unworthy of it. From the people who had suffered so grievously by the hand of his people. Nicolo had heard about the decimation of the Jewish communities in Europe. Some of the crusaders who had been there bragged about the Holy wars they had already won on the way to Jerusalem against the greedy Jews. They justified their hatred with horrid tales of how the Jews would practice cannibalism in their festivals and of course they were well hated for the betrayal and crucifixion of Christ. They spoke with barely restrained glee about the slaughter of the communities along the Rhine and Danube rivers. Nicolo had listened to the tales with everyone else and had blamed his feeling of nausea and unease on hunger and fatigue. He remembered his silent complicity with utter mortification. Michal must have sensed his hesitancy for she sighed loudly and shoved the spoon into his hands expectantly.  
She watched with disapproving eyes until he brought the first spoonful to his mouth. She smiled grandly and told him about the goings on while he ate.  
Leah and Sarah had been taken in by Mordecai’s parents. Nicolo hadn’t seen them much since they had come to Alexandria. Michal told him how the girls were both doing much better under the care and love of their family. She complained good naturedly about her state of pregnancy. She told him how Mordecai had had to go buy her a new pair of sandals because her feet had nearly doubled in size. She had cried when he brought them first in self-consciousness before in happiness at his consideration and kindness. She described her husband’s befuddlement at the fast shifting emotional range his wife was experiencing. Despite himself, Nicolo couldn’t help but smile and chuckle along as Michal entertained him. After he had finished eating, Michal produced a wine skin for him. She instructed him to drink while she tidied the dishes.  
“Do you know why I call you Jeremiah?” Michal asked him, changing the subject suddenly.  
“Because I needed a Jewish name to fit in?” Nicolo responded, feeling a bit like a child answering their parent, hoping for the right answer.  
“In part yes but mostly it’s because Jeremiah was our weeping prophet. When I first saw you, you reminded me of the stories. With your wide sad eyes. He suffered for God, when all others around were content to live as they chose because it benefited them, he spoke for the traveler, the widows, and the orphans. He suffered greatly because of this and questioned YHWH*. We jews are not like you Christians, we live our faith very differently. Our faith is a struggle, for we are named the people of Israel, those who struggle with God. I know that you struggle, Nicolo and you mourn,” Michal paused watching him. Nicolo realized then that he had been crying as she spoke. “It was hard for us at first to welcome a Christian into our lives but our faith does not allow us to deny hospitality to anyone. We’ve witnessed your kindness to our cousins, the way you respect all those you come across even as you suffer inside yourself. I am glad we did not turn you away, you are a blessing to my household.”  
“I have caused great harm. My beliefs and actions have been the death of many innocent people. I have caused suffering to your people, to Yusuf’s people. I am unworthy of your friendship. I am unworthy of Yusuf’s,” Nicolo wrung his hands as he spoke and Michal gently covered them.  
“Yes Nicolo you have. Now what are you going to do about it because slowly starving yourself does not make right the wrongs. Yusuf told us you were a priest before? So you should know the words of the prophet Jeremiah, ‘Perform justice and charity, and rescue the robbed from the hand of the robber, and to a stranger, an orphan, and a widow do no wrong, do no violence, and shed no innocent blood in this place.’ Our faith is different from one another but if you are to use our books, you’ll have to learn from those who wrote them,” Michal finished with a teasing smile, squeezing Nicolo’s hands before pulling hers away to fold over her impressive stomach, which she stroked gently.  
Nicolo nodded seriously, mulling over her words before responding, “I promise I will try harder.” Michal smiled warmly at him.  
“Nicolo you’ve missed my meaning. You already are. I’ve seen how you are with the beggars who come to the shop. You give willingly and often. I’ve seen how you pay for food from your own hand, only to give it to the widows who gather at the well. I’ve seen the toys you whittle during your breaks to give to the street children by the narrows. You saved Sarah and Leah, tracking them down days after they were carried away. You could have just left but you went after them, you avenged their family against your own people and returned their wares to them. They will have a dowry now thanks to you and Yusuf bringing not only them but also their property here. You are a good man Nicolo now if only you could forgive yourself and realize that you are worthy of living. You are worthy of being loved, Nicolo. You’ve made mistakes but YHWH is kind and forgiving to those who repent.”  
“How can you know God is kind when there is so much suffering in this world?”  
“An astute question Jeremiah. I don’t have all the answers but I will share what brings me some measure of answer. Shalom is our word for peace but it means so much more than that. It means wholeness between us, YHWH, and Creation. It is justice, mercy, and love. The prophets taught us that peace was more than just not war. It is taking care of the vulnerable, hospitality to the stranger, and forgiveness of sin. It is delighting in the beauty of creation. Evilness is selfishness, cruelty, anything that breaks Shalom. Shalom is also peace with oneself. Peace is dependent on our decisions and when we choose to break the peace that is one of the causes of suffering and the one I think weighs the most heavily on you. YHWH calls on us to bring Shalom, it’s our responsibility,” Michal explained with passion. When she talked of her God her eyes shone and it brought some a level of lounging from Nicolo to see. He contemplated what she said in silence and she smiled at him.  
“These are good questions and I will leave you some time on your own to struggle with it. We will talk again or I can introduce you to some of my husband’s friends from the Synagogue. They love to sit and argue about all manner of things. Tomorrow is Shabbot, you and Yusuf are welcome at our table,” Michal finished cleaning and left him to continue to rest, pressing a warm hard to his shoulder as she walked away.  
Nicolo’s mother had not been a very warm person growing up. He could tell she cared and loved her children, but everyone in the house had been so stymied by the over oppressive hand of his father. Most of her mothering energies went into running interference between her children and her husband. So to have Michal stepping into a maternal role in his life, even though she was still younger than he, was simultaneously comforting and terrifying. He realized he truly cared what she thought of him. He felt embarrassed and ashamed that he had made her worry for so many months as she watched his diminishing mental and physical health. He wanted to be better for the people in his life, for Michal and Mordecai, for Sarah and Leah, for Yusuf. He didn’t know what that looked like yet but he wanted to try.  
Nicolo got up and began cleaning himself up. He bathed the sweat from the fever away and cut his beard and hair. He dragged a hand up the side of his smooth cheek. It was an odd feeling as he hadn’t had a clean shaven face since he was back in Genoa. His hair he had cut to just above shoulder length before pushing it back from his face. He changed into his spare garments. They were wearing thin but they were clean. He would need to get new clothes soon. Feeling cleaner than he had in months he made dinner for Yusuf and tidied the house as he waited for him to return. When there was nothing left to clean or cook Nicolo chewed anxiously at his fingers, sitting in the silence of their house. He and Yusuf had not left things well in the morning and frankly Nicolo had been a poor housemate these past months. He was anxious to mend their relationship. Nicolo was so ashamed of his part in causing Yusuf harm. Nicolo had been so wrapped up in his own suffering he had ignored the pain of his ally. Yusuf had been just as devastated by the losses at the caravan as Nicolo had been. Nicolo was determined to be a better companion and friend for him. Yusuf deserved that much and more.  
Yusuf typically didn’t return until late in the evenings. Nicolo could hear the call to prayer start just after the sunset and knew that Yusuf would return soon after. As a rule Yusuf either arrived before the sunset prayer to pray in his room or if he didn’t it meant that he had chosen to pray in the Mosque just outside the Bazaar.  
Just as expected Yusuf arrived several minutes after the conclusion of the prayer. Nicolo was in the kitchen making sure the food was warm and served when Yusuf stopped in the doorway taking him in. Nicolo felt slightly embarrassed at the extended look but smiled shyly and placed the food on the table.  
“I’m sorry I have the wrong house, mine has a scruffy Frank in it and this one clearly does not,” Yusuf teasingly ducked out the door and Nicolo laughed. Yusuf came back in with a smile and wink as he sat at the table.  
“Michal said she had stopped by today. It looks like the visit went well?” Yusuf asked between mouthfuls of food.  
“Yes she was very generous and kind. She invited us to the Shabbat meal with them tomorrow. I think I would like to go,” Nicolo said shyly and Yusuf smiled widely.  
“You will not regret your decision my friend. Michal is a very good cook but you have not tasted from her teacher. Her older sister Rebeccah makes meals to die for. Though don’t tell Michal I said so, I do not want to test her ire.”  
“Has she told you the story of the sandals,” Nicolo said with a little smile and Yusuf chuckled deeply.  
“Yes but you should hear her husband’s recounting of the story. Poor Mordecai but such are the way of things when starting a family.,” Yusuf said with fond memory and Nicolo looked up from his food.  
“Did you have a family?” Nicolo asked, somewhat bewildered that he had never before.  
“No but it was like this when my sister had her first child. She had had three children and another on the way when I had left for Jerusalem. I suppose she would have given birth by now. She had wished for a daughter. She drove her poor husband crazy for each pregnancy,” Yusuf smiled at the memory before asking, “What of your family?”  
Nicolo sat back swallowing his food and clenching his jaw briefly before answering, “I had two older brothers. Both were married and had children when I left but I have never met their wives or children. I haven’t been welcome in my father’s house for many years.”  
Yusuf had stopped eating and was watching him closely as he spoke. His eyebrows turned down and his eyes shined briefly in the low light.  
“Did he not want you to join the priesthood?” he asked gently.  
“No he was the one who insisted. That’s what you do with a disappointing third son. His legacy was secure with my older brothers and I was not what he wanted in a son. The greatest thing I could do for the family was climb to prestige in the clergy. My father would have sought me out eventually, had I gained a position high enough to warrant his forgiveness. I’m sure that me dying in the war has pleased my father intensely. Honour enough for the family but he doesn’t have to ever see me again,” Nicolo could feel a hollowness in the centre of his chest as he described his family situation. He was terrified that Yusuf would ask what sin could he have committed to have been thrown out by his family but he was also strangely regretful when Yusuf did not.  
“I am sorry for the pain that was caused to you by your father. Father’s often are a source of injury. Mine died when I was very young but my mother told me he was not a pleasant man. My sister and I were brought up in my grandfather’s house. He was kind and faithful. He could entertain anyone with his stories. He was a merchant sailor and I apprenticed under him till I came of age and started out on my own.”  
“He sounds like a good man,” Nicolo offered.  
“He was,” Yusuf looked up into Nicolo’s eyes before gently continuing, “he was killed in the siege of Nicaea. It was why I joined the defense.”  
Nicolo took a sharp breath in and clenched his teeth so tightly he could feel his jaw pop. He remained in stunned, shameful silence, swallowing hard several times before he responded.  
“I am very sorry for your loss my friend and for my hand in it.” Yusuf turned his expressive eyes towards him and Nicolo felt like he couldn’t breathe for a second.  
“I know you are Nicolo but thank you for saying it anyway.”  
“How can you forgive so easily. For what you suffered? You never caused me any suffering, never treated me with disrespect or cruelty. Never blamed me for what my countrymen had done to yours. Never took vengeance for me killing you.”  
“I won’t say it wasn’t hard at first. When I looked at you I saw only your cross. The same cross that others had worn in the burning and desecration of many innocents but something my grandfather taught me has stuck with me for all my life. He told me a story of when he had been a young man. He was a merchant as I told you before. They were on their way from Valencia to Toledo where they were set upon. Their wares were stolen and all but my grandfather were killed in the fray. He was heavily injured and was left for dead. He was found by a passing Friar. The Friar took him to an inn where he cared for and protected my grandfather from expulsion till he was healthy and then helped him bring the men who had attacked them to justice. He ensured that his wares were returned and that he made it safely back to his ship. My grandfather had traveled and traded in many places and with many people. It had scared him at first to be cared for by the Friar but he said the strangest thing about him was how normal he was. He laughed, ate, sang, cried, and lived life just as us. He’d met Christians who cheated, lied, or tried to murder him just as he met this Christian who became his very best friend. When I eventually joined my grandfather’s business, there was a monastery on the coast of Spain that we would always stop at if we were nearby. The old Friar who had retired there would always welcome us with a good meal and good company. I learned from my grandfather that it is the man and not his religion that you should measure, for all men and all religions are capable of evil or good.”  
They finished their meal in peace and Nicolo insisted on cleaning up afterwards. He headed to bed soon after. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed when Yusuf went to bed on his own pallet that night after prayers.  
Nicolo couldn't sleep at first. He had slept too much during the day and his mind wasn’t through processing. First the conversation with Michal and then everything with Yusuf. Eventually, sleep did finally come to him and he slept peacefully for the first time in many months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so some heavy theologizing in this chapter. I really tried my best to research worldview for both Judaism and Islam in a medieval context but if I got anything grossly wrong please send me message and I'll fix it up.


	4. Hope

Chapter Four

Shabbat the next day was pleasant if not a tad overwhelming. They were greeted at the door with “Shabbat Shalom,” and escorted inside. The family was large and with many small children running amok. The traditions accompanying the meal were numerous and strange but Michal and Mordecai sat near their guests and guided them through the songs, prayers, hand washing, and blessings. Once the bread was shared and eaten conversation began anew and Nicolo found himself surrounded by new and curious voices. Everyone seemed quite excited to meet him and they had many questions for him about his homeland. Nicolo dutifully answered what he could. Sarah and Leah were at the table but further down, closer to the patriarch and matriarch of the family. At the end of the meal Mordecai brought Yusuf out to a back room for his Midday prayer and Nicolo was left with the men of the family while the women tidied and the children went to play. The men were having a lively discussion of what must have been the teaching from the morning’s service. Nicolo sat quietly and listened. He was impressed by the men’s knowledge, each one reciting passages of Torah from heart to accompany their point of view. It was very different from how the christians at his congregation interacted. The normal person was uneducated and the bible was not a household item for the masses. Most christians he knew also didn’t argue quite as openly or vehemently with what the priest had shared from the day. Though the opinions expressed were impassioned never were any of them disrespectful to one another. Each shared their opinion and was heard. When the women rejoined their group Nicolo was pleasantly surprised to have Leah come sit near him. Leah was tall for a woman, nearly his height. She had curly dark tresses, a willowy frame, and deep emotive, honey coloured eyes. During their time with the caravan Nicolo and Yusuf had not interacted much with the sisters despite their mother trying to set them up. On the travel down the two women had sheltered inside the covered wagon they had taken from the camp and had kept mostly to themselves. Nicolo and Leah talked for a time, exchanging pleasantries and trying to keep things light. There was an odd kinship Nicolo felt for the two women. He felt more than a little responsible for their continued well being and happiness. After a time Yusuf rejoined the group and the discussion grew considerably more jovial as he joined in with a joke. Eventually the time came for them to leave and Michal and Mordecai walked them to the door.  
“Thank you for having us in your home. The food and the company were greatly appreciated,” Yusuf said for the both of them. To their shock Michal started to tear up. Nicolo was not very good with women crying, and felt utterly lost. Wanting to comfort her but not knowing what to say, afraid he’d make it worse by saying the wrong thing. Mordecai noticed his look of terror for he looked to his wife and then laughed good naturally, pulling his wife into his side.  
“She’s happy, Nicolo. Don’t look so scared. We have enjoyed having you both, please join us again,” and with that Nicolo and Yusuf left for their own place. 

Time went on like that for a while after. They continued to work and live in Alexandria. They continued to join Michal and Mordecai for Shabbat, even attending services at the synagogue a few times. Just like the meals, Nicolo was coached through the ceremony by Mordecai, for Michal was up with the women. They were intricate and beautiful. They reminded him of his own Masses back in Genova. They brought comfort for him, similar and different enough to be enjoyable. He truly had missed living amongst a community. During this time Leah continued to come close to him. Sitting near him at meals and during conversations.  
At home Nicolo tried to be more attentive to his friend. He would set out clean water for when Yusuf would return for his ritual cleansing before prayers. He would sit with him at meals and converse, asking questions of Yusuf’s day. He even asked Yusuf if he would read to him aloud some nights.  
All was going well, or so he thought until one Friday some months later, Yusuf returned from the Mosque and told Nicolo his intention to make a pilgrimage to Mecca the following month.  
“Why?” Nicolo queried, feeling as though he had lost his footing.  
“I had meant to go this year with my grandfather. I would like to go in his honour.”  
“Okay, when would we leave?” Nicolo asked with a bit of trepidation. It was one thing to live in a Islamic city and befriend a Muslim, it was another entirely to go to the heart of Islam itself. But for Yusuf, he'd go to the edge of the world itself.  
Yusuf smiled at him and informed him gently, “Not us, just me.” Nicolo stared for a moment, anxiety gripping his chest, before asking, “Is it safe for you to go alone? How long would you be away for?”  
“I would not go alone, several families from my Mosque are going. It would be maybe two months. Quicker if we travel fast.” Nicolo picked at his finger anxiously and Yusuf gently flicked his hand, making him stop. Nicolo had a habit of picking his fingers till they bled in times of high stress or anxiety and Yusuf had chided him many times for hurting himself, even if it healed quickly.  
“Why couldn’t I go with you?” Nicolo asked quietly.  
“It wouldn’t be safe for you. I couldn’t really make pilgrimage with a scruffy frank,” Yusuf said with a teasing tone.  
“I’m not a Frank you know. The Franks are further north west.”  
Yusuf gave a knowing smile and responded, “I’m not the Saracen you like to accuse me of either.”  
“No?” Nicolo asked, pulled into the easy banter.  
“No, they are further north east,” Nicolo nodded sagely and then sobered once again.  
“Do you truly need to go? I would not stand between you and your Hajj but I do not wish to be parted from you for so long.”  
“I think it will be good for me and besides, you will have everyone here. Michal should give birth any day now. It would also give you more time to spend with Leah. I’ve noticed you two becoming closer as of late,” Yusuf said with a small smile that looked, oddly, somewhat sad to Nicolo.  
“Alright. If this is what you need. You’ve stood by me through these many months, it’s the least I could do to let you go.” 

The next month was busy as they prepared for Yusuf’s departure. Halfway through the month Michal gave birth to a little girl. Mordecai had sent someone to inform them that Michal was in labour and to ask Nicolo to run the shop without him. It was late the next afternoon when the same messenger informed him of the blessed birth. They named her Nehama, which Leah with tears in her eyes informed him meant comfort, the same meaning as Noah. Both Nicolo and Yusuf were invited to the celebratory feast. Mordecai greeted them at the door, hugging them both and thanking them for their gifts. Michal looked radiant if not a little tired. Little Nehama was pink and cherubic. Nicolo loved her with such intensity and speed it was staggering. He told Michal how beautiful she looked and she glowed with happiness. Nicolo held the baby and felt as if the ghost he had been holding for the past year lightened in his arms. 

When the time finally came for Yusuf to leave Nicolo presented him with a gift for his journey. It was a curved dagger. The scabbard and hilt made of embossed silver. The handle was made of darkly stained hardwood with intricate silver ornament. Yusuf pulled the blade from its sheath and revealed a curved blade made of plain steel. The length of the dagger was approximate to Yusuf’s forearm.  
“I found it in the market, the wares dealer told me it was from the region of the west side of the Maghreb. I don’t know if it’s exactly like one from your home but hopefully it’s close enough,” Nicolo related shyly and was surprised by the hug Yusuf suddenly enfolded him in.  
“It’s beautiful, Nico. Thank you. I won’t be able to bring it all the way but it will keep me safe until the Miqat.” Yusuf pulled away and Nicolo grasped his shoulder. “If you are not back in two months, I will be coming after you,” and with that he squeezed his shoulder and stepped back. Yusuf smiled, waved, and moved to join the rest of the pilgrims.  
When Nicolo got back to their home that night it felt empty and cold. He realized in that moment that he hadn’t slept alone in a long time. He finds rest hard to come by without the quiet snuffles and snores across the room.  
Nicolo spends his days much like before, except now he spends many of his evenings with Michal, Leah, and Nehama. Leah had moved in with the couple to help with the baby. Nicolo enjoyed his chats with her, though both of them were quiet people. Mostly Michal or Mordecai would lead the conversations.  
One evening Nicolo was escorting Leah back from the market when she turned to him and asked, “Are you ever planning on marrying me?”  
Nicolo stoped in the empty street quite thrown off by the bluntness. He decided to match her with his own, “No.” Leah blinked at him and Nicolo felt a familiar feeling of being measured. Leah looked nothing like her cousin in law but they certainly shared certain qualities. Qualities that made Nicolo squirm like a child with dirty hands.  
“It would make our lives much simpler if we would marry but no, I did not think you would. It’s because of Yusuf isn’t it?”  
“It’s many things,” Nicolo gently redirected.  
“I don’t want to ever marry a man but I thought with you it might be bearable. Before, my family and I lived in Athens. There was a girl there I grew up with. We always said we would marry one another when we were grown. Our parents would laugh and remind us that only men and women marry and that one day we would grow to love a man. I don’t think I ever will and I think that you are similar to me.”  
Nicolo stared at Leah and nodded, swallowing hard. This was not something he had ever freely admitted to anyone before. Leah smiled kindly and took his hand in her own.  
“Well if we are not meant to be man and wife, I would still be honoured to have you as my friend,” Nicolo smiled. Leah leaned up and kissed his cheek, famililiarly.  
“What was her name?” Nicolo asked as the two of them withdrew and continued their way back. Leah smiled sadly before responding, “Dido.” They made their way home, the air light around them. Things changed after that. Before Nicolo hadn’t even realized the tension between them but now that their intentions were both shared the two felt a steady trust build up between them. 

The month both sped and dragged in equal measure. Often Nicolo would look over his shoulder for Yusuf, thinking to share a joke or to point out something beautiful, only to be greeted with emptiness. His house felt too quiet. To fill the silence and loneliness Nicolo tried praying once again. He started slowly, not the hours of liturgy he used to do but instead he would quietly say prayers of thanks in hebrew that he had learned from Mordecai. He admired the community he was amongst, they were pious and devoted but open and accepting. They held their faith like a butterfly in an open palm, whereas Nicolo felt as if he had been crippled by a clenched hand. He had held so closely to what he was taught and hadn’t known any other way for so long that it had left his faith deformed and suffocated.  
After a little while he started to even add some of Yusuf’s prayers to his days. He didn’t remember them fully but hummed along when he heard the call drifting down from the market. Even as he began to embrace a new faith, not quite like the one he had before, he still didn’t understand his place in it. For people like him and Leah. How could Leah’s love for Dido be forbidden, sinful. Even if Nicolo didn’t understand much about his own faith anymore, he did believe one thing, God was love. How could anything else be worth worshiping, be worth living for. If his new mission in life was Shalom, as Michal had challenged him, then that started with himself. So Nicolo allowed himself to do something he hadn’t before, he allowed himself to love Yusuf. In loving Yusuf he finally came to love the part of himself that had always been rejected by others and that he in turn had always rejected. Besides he couldn’t deny it any longer, he did love him. He felt his absence as a never healing tear in his chest. His laugh, his calm presence, his kindness and passion. Yusuf had become as necessary to life as breathing and it was only when he wasn’t there anymore that Nicolo realized just how much he felt like he was suffocating without him near. Nicolo breathed deep and sat in the full knowledge of how deeply and irrevocably he loved him. He felt it as a hot seed in his chest finally giving birth to a living tree within. It brought tears to his eyes. He felt vulnerable in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to feel since his father’s rejection but he also felt alive in a way that he hadn’t ever felt before.  
He spoke to Leah the next day. He didn’t know how to speak to Yusuf. If Yusuf did not feel the same, this could break them apart.  
“We have only one life to live Nicolo,” Leah had encouraged him when he had shared his fears with her and he laughed bitterly. That was just it, what made his fear so exquisite. He had many lives, he didn’t know how many. As far as they knew they had eternity on this earth before them. The thought of living that eternity alone was blood curdling. Then again, living eternity beside the man he loved and never truly being honest with him, never giving them the chance to truly be together, was a fear that Nicolo didn’t think he could live with. If Yusuf rejected him he would recover, move on, live with it but not knowing that he could not live with.

So he waited anxiously as the second month dragged on and then suddenly the wait was over. An excited hum buzzed throughout the streets as Nicolo was walking through the bazaar with Mordecai and Leah. The pilgrims were returning. The three hurriedly made their way through the crowds to greet the returning Yusuf. Nicolo’s gaze swept over each face, looking for the expressive eyes and curling hair that he knew so well. Forty pilgrims had left the city nearly two months before and as Nicolo studied each face that passed through the gates, he could not spot Yusuf. Anxiety started to grip Nicolo as face by face passed by. Near the end of the line Nicolo noticed Ilan, Yusuf’s friend from the Mosque. Nicolo pushed nearer looking around for Yusuf but stopped dead when his eyes met Ilan’s. He looked at him with a mix of pity and sadness that stopped Nicolo’s heart in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliff hanger. We're almost at the end.


	5. Ending and New Begginings

Chapter Five  
Suddenly Leah was beside him, clasping his hand firmly and bringing them closer to Ilan. “Where’s Yusuf?” Leah asked in her usual straightforward manner. He cleared his throat before speaking.   
“There was a rockslide, a few of the children were playing in the path of it. Yusuf saved them but was carried over the cliff. I’m very sorry, there was nothing we could do,” Ilan pressed a hand to Nicolo’s shoulder in comfort before he reached into his large saddle bag. He pulled Yusuf’s things from it, holding it out towards him. Nicolo made no move to take it. He felt as if his hands had gone completely numb. Mordecai stepped up beside them and took the things for him when Nicolo made no move to. Yusuf’s scimitar on top of the pile. Nicolo felt as if his brain was processing at the speed of dripping honey.  
Yusuf couldn’t die, Nicolo was still here so Yusuf wasn’t dead. That had been their oath and Nicolo refused to believe any different. That meant if Yusuf wasn’t dead, and he wasn’t here, he was trapped at the bottom of a cliff in a rockslide dying over and over, suffocating or bleeding out.   
“Where?” he asked urgently. Ilan looked taken aback and Nicolo insisted. “Where did this happen? How many days?”   
“On the main trail through the mountain pass, three days from here.”   
Nicolo spun on his heels nearly dragging Leah with him.   
Mordecai beside him, a look of pity in his eyes, tried to reach out. Nicolo side stepped him and hurried back towards his house. Leah stubbornly clutched his hand as he left, nearly running to keep up with him.

“Nicolo, stop. Nicolo where are you going?” Leah asked, her voice choked from tears.   
“He’s not dead. I need to find him,” Nicolo stormed into his home, shaking Leah’s hand from his own and started packing his necessary things. Mordecai followed after them, staying in the doorway with a look of helplessness on his face, Yusuf’s stuff in his arms.   
“Nicolo, please. Please stop,” Leah hiccuped and Nicolo stopped and turned to her. She tried to hug him but he held her at arm’s length. Her eyes were red rimmed and tears split her face.   
“I’m not wrong Leah. Yusuf is not dead. I’d know if he were. I’d know here,” Nicolo said, placing his hand on his chest.   
“Nicolo,” Mordecai tried but he cut him off.   
“I’d know. Please would you help me Mordecai? I need two horses. Would you procure them for me?” Mordecai set his jaw and stepped closer, setting Yusuf’s things down on the table. Before he could say what he was going to, Yusuf’s pack slipped open and a book fell out onto the ground at their feet. Pages scattered across the ground. Nicolo paid them little mind till he recognized his own face staring up at him from the ground. He stopped and stooped to pick up the page. The picture was of him in side profile smiling softly at someone off the page. The detail was remarkable, the picture achingly beautiful.   
“Oh Yusuf,” Leah said, having picked up some of the other pages, fresh tears streaming down her face. She handed him another picture, this one of him sleeping on his side, his face screwed up in some nightmare. Nicolo put the pages back in the book, each one a different aspect of him, his eyes, his mouth, his hands. Mordecai stood frozen in his spot before he gave Nicolo a long look. Nicolo packed the book in his own bag before meeting Mordecai’s gaze.   
“Please Mordecai, we made an oath, before both his God and mine. We leave this earth together and as my heart still beats so does his. Will you help me?” he asked with a trembling voice. With one last look to Leah and then to Nicolo, Mordecai left to do as he had been bid. Nicolo turned to Leah once more.  
“Will you help me prepare? I need food and water, enough for two,” Nicolo asked and Leah reluctantly agreed. The two of them quickly started to pack. Soon Mordecai returned with two camels.  
“These will be faster and endure the desert better than horses. B’ezrat HaShem, my friend. May you find him.”  
“Thank you, I will return and repay you for your kindness,” Nicolo thanked him and slung his and Yusuf’s bags up onto the first camel. He embraced both of his friends before mounting the second camel. He left the city quickly making his way out into the desert to search for Yusuf.   
He did not stop for anything but the dark or for fear of overstressing the camels. Even then he rode until darkness and awoke at first light to continue his journey. His skin blistered and burned under the hot sun but Nicolo could barely feel it. All he could think of was Yusuf. To have finally embraced his feelings and then to lose him before ever telling him was unthinkably tragic. So he forced himself to stop thinking about it. He prayed instead. Desperate, bargaining prayers.

By the mid afternoon of the second day Nicolo reached the mountain pass. He took the lower trail. During the rainy months this trail was a rushing river but now it was cracked and dry. He pushed the camels at a grueling pace up the path and soon found a spot where there was evidence of a recent rock slide. He peered around and called out before standing in the agonizing silence, listening for Yusuf’s reply. Nicolo cursed his heart, for it beat so loudly in his chest he could barely hear above its racket. The rockslide was big and many of the stones far too large for Nicolo to move on his own. After a torturous few seconds of listening Nicolo started to move around the pile looking for signs of Yusuf in the rubble. Finally after long minutes of searching and calling out Nicolo spotted cloth among the rocks near the base of the mountain, at the edge of the rock slide. He ran to the spot and started shifting the stones. Soon he saw a hand and his heart stopped altogether in his chest. Then the hand began to twitch and moan rose up from beneath the rocks. Nicolo grabbed the hand and squeezed tight.  
“I’m here, Yusuf. I’m here. Just wait I’ll get you out,” the hand clutched at his and Nicolo reluctantly let go to dig him out. Nicolo cleared what he could and soon he began to uncover Yusuf’s battered body. He was a ragged and gruesome sight but Nicolo continued to clear the stones away. All the while Yusuf would return to life before slowly suffocating, his lungs unable to breathe fully. Each death was a slow, agonizing ten minutes or so before the internal wounds and lack of air would claim him again. A large stone pinned Yusuf’s legs, left arm, and chest and Nicolo could not budge it on his own. He had to use the camels and a large tree branch to lever and pull the big stone away. Moving the stone crushed Yusuf to death once again but with the largest stone gone, Nicolo was able to pull Yusuf the rest of the way out of the rubble. He clutched Yusuf to him, half in his lap as he waited for Yusuf to awaken. Which he soon did, taking large gulps of air and squinting his eyes against the bright sun. “Alhamdulillah,” Nicolo breathed out in thanks. He pulled out his water skin and helped him drink. Yusuf held onto his wrist even after he had finished drinking.   
“Suffocating sucks. I do not recommend you try it,” Yusuf finally spoke with a reedy, shaking voice and Nicolo laughed helplessly.   
“I will take your word for it neshama sheli. Now let us get you into some shade. Give me a moment to set up camp,” and with that Nicolo set Yusuf up in the shade of the mountain with the water skin while he set up a tent and tied up the camels. When he was finished Yusuf was healed entirely but looked exhausted. Nicolo helped him into the tent. He helped him change into the clean set of clothes Leah had packed, as his own were dust covered and torn. As Yusuf undid his belt the dagger Nicolo had got him fell to the tent floor. It was crushed and disfigured. Yusuf scooped it up and tutted fretfully.   
“I’ve gone and ruined your beautiful gift my friend.”  
“Don’t worry there’s still plenty of silver on it. We’ll make something new,” Nicolo said, taking the ruined dagger and helping Yusus to his bedroll.  
Yusuf fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. Nicolo laid out on his own bedroll and watched Yusuf sleep. He’d never known such relief in his life as seeing Yusuf safe and healed beside him. Yusuf slept for most of the day and Nicolo eventually woke him for the evening meal. They ate in silence for a time, Yusuf scarfing down the food quickly. When he had finished he turned to Nicolo.

“I knew you’d come. You made better time than I thought you would.”  
“I didn’t like the thought of you being trapped. I don’t like the thought of you suffering.”  
“And why’s that?” Nicolo sat in silence as Yusuf stared at him. All of this build up to this moment and he couldn’t gather enough air in his lungs to speak anything out. Yusuf watched his silence and pushed gently, “Did you call me neshama sheli earlier? I may not be as familiar with it I thought. I have only ever heard Michal say those words to Mordecai. What does it mean?”  
Nicolo took a deep shuddering breath and finally spoke, his heart in his throat, “It means my soul because that is what you are to me Yusuf.”  
“What about Leah? I thought..” Yusuf lets the words fade.  
“I have nothing for anyone but you.”  
“Alhamdulillah. I had gone to Mecca to be rid of you and it turns out that Allah has seen fit to grant my heart’s desire.”  
“What does that mean?”  
“Nicolo I thought you were going to propose to Leah. I’d seen how the two of you were growing closer. I thought that my affections were not reciprocated.”   
“Not reciprocated?,” Nicolo pauses to laugh and feels tears slip out and hastily wipes them away before continuing, “You are my best friend. You opened the world for me. You are honourable and faithful. You are fierce and dedicated. Your kindness and patience has changed the man I am and inspires me of the man I want to be. Hearing you laugh, seeing how every room you walk into you arrest the attention of everyone in it, I only ever wanted you. You are like a sunbeam, you bring warmth and life everywhere you turn your attention. I feel like the sunflower, following your warmth as you move and closing up when you are not there. I used to think that I would be damned for a love like this but now I know that living in this world and never allowing this love is what true damnation is. I will be your companion for always, even if you do not feel the same as me but I think that you do,” Nicolo slips the book from his bag and hands it back to Yusuf. Yusuf takes the book gently and runs his hand over the cover. He laughs warmly, tears gathering in his laugh lines and sets the book aside. He reaches forward and takes Nicolo’s hand in his.   
“Nicolo, you were the most unexpected gift. I can’t imagine a world where I don’t wake up next to you each morning. A world where we no longer go for our walks, we no longer talk philosophy. I enjoy every moment I am in your presence. I even love the things that drive me crazy. Like how when you drink tea you always leave an inch of swill at the bottom even though I chide you every time. The amount of times I spill it on myself cleaning up after you. I was never supposed to love you but I simply couldn’t hide from it. I ran from you once but never again. Anywhere you go, I will go. I will follow you for all eternity and beyond. Deus Vult,” Yusuf reached a faintly trembling hand up to Nicolo’s face and cupped his cheek, wiping escaping tears with his thumb. Nicolo laid his hand over Yusuf’s keeping it pressed to his skin, before moving his palm to his mouth to kiss it gently.   
“Eternity and beyond don’t sound long enough.”

Epilogue

Yusuf struggled for a long time after that with sleep. Whenever he would slip into darkness he felt as if he were trapped once again by the boulders that had slowly crushed him over and over for five days. He’d wake up in a panic and reach for the living body next to his. He’d curl himself around Nicolo and feel his heart beating through his chest and it would keep the memory of the hard stones from his mind, granting him the peace he needed for sleep.   
Nicolo returned to Alexandria but Yusuf had remained in the tent. Too many people had seen him die. Nicolo promised to be back within the week and took the camels. When he arrived in the city he went to his friend’s house. Leah met him at the door.  
“Did you find him?” She asked, looking at the empty camels tied up in front of the house.  
“Not here,” Nicolo quickly ushered them into the house. When Michal saw him she ran to embrace him. He held her firmly to himself.   
“I’m so sorry Nicolo. Mordecai told me everything. Did you find him?” she asked as she held him arms length from her. Mordecai came in from the back room then, holding the baby.  
Nicolo directed them all to sit and then, having already agreed with Yusuf, told them everything. They were hesitant at first, exchanging worried glances, but with a quick finger slice he proved to them he wasn’t crazy.   
“We can’t stay here anymore. We need to move somewhere else but we couldn’t just leave without saying goodbye,” Nicolo explained.   
“I knew there was something to you, didn’t I Mordecai. I told him when we met. Oh Nicolo, YHWH has such a destiny for both of you. Will you write to us?”   
“Of course, I don’t know where it will be but wherever we end up, we’ll write.” 

It only takes a few days to pack what they need and to settle their business in Alexandria. The goodbye is bittersweet.   
Nicolo and Yusuf end up joining a ship for a while. They travel for a few months, growing in affection and knowledge of one another, until one day their boat takes them to the coast of Spain. They leave the ship and are dropped off at a little monastery where they are greeted warmly by an elderly Friar. He is pained to hear of the passing of his dear friend but welcomes both Nicolo and Yusuf to stay for as long as they would like.   
Nicolo is hesitant to stay at first. He hadn’t been back in a church since back before his first death. Even as far as he has come, he still somewhat expected the holy water to burn or for him to burst into flames when he entered the sanctuary. Neither of these things happen and they enjoy the quiet and peace of the place. It is only the friar and his attendant who live in the monastery at the time. Nicolo and Yusuf are roomed together and though Nicolo is hesitant, Yusuf insists they press the bunks together.   
One early morning Friar Mateo walks in to invite Nicolo to join him for Lauds in the garden. Yusuf is his usual limpet self, curled around him when the door opens. He takes one look at their startled frightened faces and rolls his eyes. 

“Nicolo, please join me in the garden. The sunset is particularly awe inspiring this morning,” and with a slow shuffle he was out the door.   
“What the fuck,” Nicolo quietly exclaims in arabic and turns to Yusuf in a panic.   
“Don’t look at me love. You better join the old man before he comes back to drag you out.”   
Nicolo hurriedly dresses and rushes to the garden. He can feel his ears heat and his palms sweat. Friar Mateo is already kneeling at a bench overlooking the sea cliffs. Nicolo kneels beside him. They chant the prayer, sing the hymn and recite the bible reading. At the end they sit in silence for a few moments before Mateo peeks open an eye and knocks his shoulder with Nicolo’s.  
“Relax my son, you're as stiff as a board. Did you truly think I didn’t see the way of things from the moment I saw you two together at my door. I am a very old man and not easily frightened.” Nicolo lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding and slumps his shoulders.   
“How can you let us stay here if you know? The church condemns what Yusuf and I are.”  
“Yes well the church does a lot of bullshit now doesn't it. I’ve stopped letting men tell me what God does and does not say for a long time now. Oh don’t look so shocked. I’m too old for them to kick me out now. Why do you think they sent me here? They sent me to this tiny monastery to die in peace, so I would stop shaking so many rafters. Political despots and idiots the lot of them.”  
“But the pope is the head of Christ’s church. His word is God’s word.” 

“I stopped believing that poppycock when his Holy imminence decided to trade holiness for politics. Christianity is a religion for the oppressed Nicolo, not the oppressor. The second it crosses those lines it no longer speaks for Christ. The man was nearly stoned for reminding Israel that God healed the widow in Sidon or the commander from Syria. He spoke to a samaritan woman, and spared the woman who committed adultery. Every action Emmanual took on this earth was to directly oppose the corrupt and to uplift those society had degraded. God is love Nicolo and that’s all there is to it. Faith isn’t really all that complicated when it comes down to it. Now help an old man to his breakfast will you?”

Nicolo and Yusuf stayed at the monastery for a year before they were married by Friar Matteo. It’s a sunset service in the middle of summer. The garden full of blooming bougainvillea, pomegranate flowers, and carnations. They exchange oaths, incorporating some they had already made and new ones as well. The service is simple and at the end Nicolo presents Yusuf with two silver rings, made from the silver inlaw from the ruined dagger. They aren’t able to be publicly married in most places, so Yusuf wears both rings for them. “I’ll carry my heart and yours.”  
After a time Friar Matteo dies peacefully in his sleep. Soon after they get a letter from Leah asking them to escort her to Malta, where Dido, a new widow has contacted her and asked Leah to move in. So with eternity ahead of them, they board a ship and make their way back to Alexandria.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right well made myself cry with this one. Thank you so much for everyone who encouraged me along the way! A particular thanks for shatterthefragments who commented on every chapter. This will eventually have a sequel from Yusuf's perspective called Alhamdulillah but I'm working on a work further in the future from Booker's perspective first. Much love!


End file.
